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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218533">Generosity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Physician (2013)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse of Authority, Angst, Choking, Drugs, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Physical Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Threats of Violence, like...mildly hopeful ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I—it hurts," Rob says at last, placing a hand over his chest, hoping it's reason enough to not have to smoke again. "Here. It feels like I've been burned."</p><p>"Oh, Jesse." The Shah’s smile gets bigger, until he’s showing too many of his teeth to look anything less than a monster. "Come closer to me. I will help you."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shah Alah ad-Daula/Rob Cole</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Generosity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rob doesn’t like the way he’s being looked at.</p><p>It’s dark, suggestive, and entirely predatory. It reminds him of the way the lion had looked at the Shah just moments before it had been killed.</p><p>He doesn’t like the reminder that it's hardly a different situation, now; that <em>he</em> is the pray. The Shah has Rob’s life in his hands, and Rob has no men with arrows to save him should the Shah choose to attack.</p><p>He doesn’t like what’s being implied, either. He doesn’t want these women’s touches because his heart belongs to Rebecca, and no other could ever be so beautiful. It’s nothing more, nothing like what the Shah is suggesting, and the confusion of it all leaves him speechless. In the silence, the Shah’s eyes travel over his body once again, a smirk on his lips, and Rob does his best to shake off the fear that wells up inside of him.</p><p>“Ah,” he says, pretending to focus back on their game when nothing has ever felt less important. “We should get back soon…”</p><p>The Shah flicks his wrist, sending the pieces off the board. Rob swallows hard, taking a moment before daring to look up at him.</p><p>“Only the Shah may end an audience. Are <em>you</em> the Shah?”</p><p>Rob wants to go. He wants to go <em>now.</em> His eyes dart about, to the guards beyond the confines of the tent and then back, and though he manages to keep his unbearable urge to escape at bay he’s unable to keep himself <em>still,</em> his skin crawling as he takes in a sharp breath and rocks back.</p><p>“No,” he says at last, and the Shah hums. He gives Rob a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and it makes Rob twitch and fidget again.</p><p>“I did not think so.” The Shah takes another drag from his pipe, then holds it out to Rob, tucking his other arm behind his head.</p><p>“You are too tense, Englishman.”</p><p>No, no more of that…it was a <em>terrible </em>experience, and he still feels odd from it, his fingertips tingling. “Ah—thank you, Sire, but...but I do not think…”</p><p>The Shah tilts his head a bit. Just that is enough to silence Rob’s stammering.</p><p>"You are saying no to me?"</p><p>Rob swallows hard. He looks at the guards again, at the swords at their waists.</p><p>"I—it hurts," he says at last, placing a hand over his chest, hoping it's reason enough. "Here. It feels like I've been burned."</p><p>"Oh, Jesse." The Shah’s smile gets bigger, until he’s showing too many of his teeth to look anything less than a monster. "Come closer to me. I will help you."</p><p>Even knowing he has no choice, Rob hesitates. That awful, hungry glint in the Shah's eyes has only gotten brighter. He doesn't want to move. As much as he dislikes the touch of the women beside him, he has a sinking feeling he's going to dislike getting close to the man even more.</p><p>But he does, because he has to. He doesn’t need to be reminded of that. Slowly, he rises to a crouch, shuffling his way forward until he can kneel at the Shah’s side.</p><p>“Take it,” the Shah orders, and so Rob does, holding it in his lap. His resistance makes the Shah breathe out a frustrated sigh, and he gestures sharply with his hand for Rob to raise it.</p><p>“Please, O Ruler—”</p><p>The Shah smacks him under his chin, closing his jaw and making him bite his tongue. He hisses in pain, reaching up to cover his mouth, and the Shah sits up, wincing as he does.</p><p>Rob thinks, for a moment, perhaps he can have a different outcome this time, that maybe this discomfort can end if only he can do what he’s meant to. “Your side—”</p><p>“Silence.”</p><p>Rob obeys. He watches as the Shah takes the pipe from him, and holds it up to his lips.</p><p>"Open."</p><p>Rob doesn't. He keeps them firmly together.</p><p>The Shah hardly seems offended. He chuckles, pressing the end of the pipe in a little harder until it's forced past his lips, and Rob nearly gags.</p><p>"Breathe in now, hakim.”</p><p>And when Rob breathes through his nose instead, trying to find something to say, the Shah extends a hand, brushes his fingers so <em>gently </em>over Rob's cheek, and then pinches Rob's nose shut between two knuckles.</p><p>For a moment, Rob is caught in a cold wave of panic, unable to breathe. He wants to do as the Shah asks even less, now that it's being forced from him like this.</p><p>It doesn't matter, though. He's a fool to have thought otherwise.</p><p>"<em>Obey me</em>," the Shah says, with far less patience, and after another few moments Rob gives in, taking a pull from the pipe.</p><p>Even more so than before it burns. And because it’s different than the first time, a deep inhale driven by need of air rather than a tiny, curious attempt, it hits him harder, a fog almost instantly settling into his mind. He starts to cough, and the Shah releases him, lets him double over himself and hack until his lungs are clear of smoke.</p><p>"You are amusing, Englishman. Do you know that?"</p><p>Rob can't even begin to formulate any response before the cool metal is pushed back into his mouth. This time he holds his breath of his own will, trying to pull back, but the Shah snakes his fingers into Rob's curls and yanks, stilling him.</p><p>"You become less amusing by the second," he says, giving Rob a hard shake that makes a pain shoot down his neck. "The Shah is being generous, sharing with you, being your <em>friend. </em>And this is how you repay him? With disrespect?"</p><p>"No—" Rob chokes around the pipe, and then takes another, shorter pull. Even as he coughs, the Shah holds him where he is, and makes him take a third.</p><p>His hands shake with the effort it's taking him not to try to shove away. "I cannot bre—"</p><p>The pipe is pulled back, just long enough for him to gulp in a desperate breath, and then replaced, and this time he doesn’t have the sense left to resist. When he next exhales a cloud of smoke the coughing is less intense, and by the next it's stopped entirely.</p><p>For some reason, much of the rest of the world seems to have stopped, too. He feels...strange. Like perhaps this tent is the only sliver of reality left. He can't remember why he needed to get away, or why he’s ever cared about anything at all before now.</p><p>The hand in his hair, something he’d forgotten was there at all, starts to stroke through it, nails scratching gently against his scalp, and his eyes slide closed. It feels nice. Everything feels nice. He's so comfortable, so warm...he could fall asleep right here. He might after all, because one moment he's relatively upright and the next he's sprawled across the blanket beneath him, softer than anything he's ever felt. He doesn’t remember it being so <em>soft</em>, and he runs his fingers along it, content to never move again.</p><p>There's a pressure at his lips, and he opens for the now familiar shape of the pipe, only that's not what he gets. Instead, a finger pushes into his mouth, past his teeth and against his tongue, probing. He's not sure what's going on, but that doesn't seem right, so he turns his head, reaches up to push at the weight that's all at once fallen like a shadow over him.</p><p>"Be still, hakim.”</p><p>His eyes close again. He can’t seem to keep them open. He wants to sleep...he’s never felt so tired…</p><p>Fingers are against his cheek again, then his neck. They run along his collarbone, and then slip down beneath his robe. He doesn’t have the chance to do or feel anything before they’re gone, and as he shakes his head, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what’s happening, they’re down at his ankle. They slide up to his knee, and then another hand joins the first, spreading his thighs apart in such a way that it makes his heart start to pound, gives his body a sudden shot of cold and fearful energy throughout that finally lets him open his eyes.</p><p>The Shah is kneeling between his open legs. Rob knows that’s not where he should be. He tries to close them, and the Shah glances up at him, grabbing his knees tight enough to leave bruises and forcing them back down.</p><p>“I said,” the Shah murmurs, voice as much a growl as what Rob had heard coming from the lion, “<em>be still.</em>”</p><p>Rob had thought the Shah’s eyes were dark before, but now they’re black, hardly open, gazing upon him as the Shah licks his lips and, slowly, starts to raise Rob’s robe.</p><p>“No,” Rob says, frowning. That’s not right. That’s <em>not right.</em> He doesn’t like that. He reaches up for something to grab onto, something he can use to pull himself away, but his limbs are still so <em>heavy,</em> and all his arm can do is flop uselessly above his head.</p><p>The Shah hums. He bares Rob's legs and thighs to the hot air, and Rob gasps, frozen as the Shah runs one hand up his thigh and then cups between his legs. He cries out, and the Shah looks at him.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Jesse?”</p><p>Everything. Everything is suddenly so <em>wrong, </em>and he wants to go home. He wants to say so, but instead all that comes out is an unintelligible whine, and the Shah smiles.</p><p>“Shush, boy...perhaps you need a bit more.”</p><p>He waves his hand, gesturing at someone, and then suddenly the pipe is being shoved into Rob’s mouth again. He looks up, and one of the girls he’d been sitting with is above him. Her eyes remind him of Rebecca’s, almost...though never as bright. He takes one pull, then another, and then there’s nothing else on his mind but her, the way she looked when they made love, the sounds she’d made muffled into his ear…</p><p>“<em>Jesse…”</em></p><p>That isn’t her voice. That isn’t her <em>touch.</em> No, that’s—things <em>aren’t right—</em></p><p>He doesn’t know when the pipe was pulled away, or when he started shifting about, but suddenly he’s back in the tent, breathing hard, and the Shah is laughing as fire-hot shame overcomes Rob. He tries to turn onto his side, to bring his knees up to his chest and hide himself, but it isn't allowed. The Shah presses a hand flat against his chest to lay him on his back again, pulling his robe up and baring his arousal to everyone in the tent, and far worse, to <em>himself.</em></p><p>“I knew there was something different about you, Jesse,” the Shah murmurs. He’s been <em>fondling </em>Rob all this time, but now his hand settles firm and completely around his cock. “More than your unusual beauty. I had wondered before...but it is much different to see for myself.”</p><p>“<em>Sire—</em>” Rob finally gets out, but not much else, because suddenly the Shah moves his hand, just once, from base to the head and back again, and his head falls back against the pillow behind him. It feels like what only his <em>own </em>hand has done before, and it frightens him to be touched like this, by anyone he didn’t want and <em>especially</em> by the Shah.</p><p>He’s been...threatened, before. Both men and women have come too close, touched him through his clothing, even pinned him as they told him what they wanted to do to him.</p><p>But they never had. Rob had shoved them back, <em>fought </em>several, had gotten away each and every time. More than once with bruises and a bloody nose, a tremble in his hands that stayed for hours, but still largely unharmed.</p><p>He realizes now that it’s all been luck. They’d been drunkards, weaker than him then even if they wouldn’t have been otherwise. He’d escaped because he’d been <em>able </em>to escape.</p><p>If he tries that here, he will die. The Shah, likely, will take what he wants anyway before having him killed.</p><p>He’s afraid. Even mindless on opium he’s <em>scared, </em>and he doesn’t think that, even if it all stopped now, he could ever be the same again.</p><p>But it <em>doesn’t </em>stop now. The Shah moves his hand again, and Rob gasps, wriggling. It strokes him a third time, and his hips rock up without his permission, against the Shah’s as he leans down over him to nose along his jaw. The Shah gestures again, off to the side, and the woman above Rob reaches down to lift the robe completely up and over his head, leaving him naked and shivering.</p><p>"No…” Rob whispers, shaking his head, watching in horror as the Shah continues to touch him, as his body reacts to it as if it’s only his mind that wants to refuse. “<em>No…</em>"</p><p>"Let me relieve your tension, Jesse," the Shah murmurs into his ear, biting down, and Rob digs his teeth into his lower lip to suppress a moan. It isn’t missed, and the Shah fits his finger back into Rob’s mouth, leaving him unable to stop a second.</p><p>“Yes,” the Shah says, rubbing his finger along Rob’s lips to wet them. “Yes...enjoy this, Jesse. It is the greatest honor to receive my touch.”</p><p>It feels more like a punishment, but then he’s being forced to smoke again, and everything is lost. He can't resist. The Shah works him into a state he’s never been in, the drug heightening his pleasure, and soon Rob feels that the Shah’s hand is getting slick.</p><p>“I do not think I’ve seen even a woman this wet, Jesse,” the Shah purrs, and even Rob’s shame and embarrassment can’t stop the moans falling from his mouth as the touch continues, or the aborted thrusts he’s giving into every stroke.</p><p>He thinks of Rebecca, off and on. One moment it’s the Shah, and the next it’s her, and he’s no longer sure which is real. His head lolls back, and he whines, scrabbling for purchase as a tickling heat starts to coil tight in his belly.</p><p>"You move so beautifully, little hakim." The Shah nips his way down Rob's throat to his chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth, and Rob cries out, fisting the blanket and pulling at it. </p><p>"<em>Oh!</em>"</p><p>"Oh? And to think you disobeyed me so intently." He runs his tongue over the hardening nub once, twice, then takes it between his teeth. It makes Rob <em>sob</em>, his eyes rolling back as his vision goes spotty, and the Shah laughs. "You hardly deserve such a reward."</p><p>He keeps going, though. He doesn't slow, not for a second. And because it’s what wrings the most sounds out of Rob, he laves over both of Rob's nipples, back and forth between them until Rob is kicking out and writhing, tears streaming into his hair.</p><p>"Please—Lord—ah—<em>ah</em>—"</p><p>The Shah twists his hand, again and <em>again </em>until Rob is sputtering nonsense and moaning uncontrollably and the Shah has to lay his arm heavy over Rob’s chest to keep him from twisting free of his hold entirely.</p><p>"You sound and look as you always should, Jesse." He sounds out of breath himself, pressing his ear down against Rob's heaving chest as his heart beats wildly within it, rocking down against him. "As perhaps I would like to make you sound and look more often."</p><p>The implications don't register. He barely hears the words at all. Nothing matters, only getting over the edge he’s been teetering on too long, because it feels so <em>good</em> and Jesus Christ above he <em>needs </em>it, he needs it so <em>badly—</em></p><p>"Oh—I am—"</p><p>"<em>Come,</em> hakim." It's an order, the first Rob has followed so quickly, the first he hasn’t even <em>questioned</em>. His body goes stiff, and takes in a breath, and then he's letting out what’s nearly a scream as he jerks and spills over the Shah's hand.</p><p>The Shah’s breath hitches. "That's it, boy…that's it. That's just what you needed, is it not?"</p><p>He keeps going, keeps stroking, and milks every last drop out of Rob until he's left a shivering, whimpering mess that isn’t sure of his own name anymore, let alone what’s just happened or what he may have needed before.</p><p>And then, slowly, it starts to come back.</p><p>He wishes it hadn’t.</p><p>His eyes open, and he stares up at the Shah as he sits back on his haunches, hand moving beneath his own robe as he stares down at Rob with that same, awful, predatory gaze.</p><p>"Wh-what have you done?" he whispers, and the Shah stills his hand. He scowls, and Rob hardly has time to realize he’s made a mistake before he’s struck, an open-handed slap across his cheek that <em>hurts</em>, leaves him briefly stunned, a terrible counteraction to the pleasure he'd been overwhelmed with just seconds before.</p><p>"What have <em>I done?"</em> the Shah hisses, straddling his waist to grab Rob round the throat, squeezing.</p><p>Rob's mouth falls open. The Shah sneers at what must be his terror displayed plain on his face. It isn't right, having to speak with <em>respect </em>to someone who’s given Rob none, someone who’s done <em>this </em>to him, yet obediently he chokes out, "O—S-Sublime—One!" in an attempt to correct his error.</p><p>The Shah tightens his grip. Rob's air is once again taken from him.</p><p>"You sound ungrateful," the Shah tells him. "You sound as if I've done nothing for you. As if you were not just thrashing beneath me with pleasure from <em>my hand.</em>"</p><p>His mouth forms the words it can, but no sound comes. <em>I did not—want—</em></p><p>The Shah leans over him. Rob's not sure he isn't going to be crushed by him, feeling like his ribs are creaking under the pressure.</p><p>"You did not?" He lifts his other hand, looks it over, and then suddenly shoves it forward, into Rob's mouth.</p><p>"Taste," he orders, as if Rob has a choice, and the unpleasant saltiness on Rob’s tongue makes him retch. "Do you recognize it? That is you, Jesse. Yours. Is that truly what you think men who <em>don't want </em>do?"</p><p>Rob starts to struggle, and the Shah lifts his head before slamming it back down. The compacted sand beneath the blanket likely isn’t as hard as it could be, but the blow still rattles his brain about his skull and aches, more than enough for him to understand to go still.</p><p>"You want what the Shah decides to give," he says, "and <em>only </em>that."</p><p>Rob squeezes his eyes shut, his body starting to heave for air the longer he's forced to go without it.</p><p>The Shah rolls his hips, then leans down, breathing hot into his ear, taunting him with what he cannot do himself. "You are my friend, Jesse. This is what friends do. They tend to each other. Help each other."</p><p>It wasn't any help Rob ever wanted. He doesn't want to be anyone's friend ever again if that's what it entails. Things are starting to dim, and his hand instinctively settles upon the Shah's wrist, wraps around it, and weakly tugs.</p><p>"More disobedience," the Shah murmurs, though sounds more entertained than anything else, watching as Rob's hand falls away, as his senses begin to fade.</p><p>"If I grant you what you need a second time, will you be as ungrateful?"</p><p>He never needed what happened before. He wants the Shah to stop saying that. What he <em>needs</em> is for the Shah to let him breathe, <em>please</em>, because he just can't bear the pain any longer.</p><p>His limbs jerk weakly, and the Shah breathes out hard, taking Rob’s hand and dragging it under his clothing. Rob can do nothing more than let it happen, and the Shah folds his fingers around his cock, settles his hand over Rob’s, and starts to move both along himself.</p><p>“Show me, hakim,” the Shah says. “Let me know you will be grateful.”</p><p>Rob can feel himself starting to lose consciousness. He knows that if he does without doing something, <em>anything,</em> he isn’t going to wake up. And as much as he may not mind that, after what’s happened, he has more than just himself to survive for.</p><p>So with the last of his strength, he moves his thumb, rubs it over the head of the Shah’s cock, and the Shah tilts his head back and gasps, coating both of their hands with his spend and then, <em>finally,</em> releasing Rob’s throat.</p><p>The first breath Rob takes feels like it’s clawing its way down into his lungs, like it’s made of fire and glass, but it’s still somehow the most wonderful relief he’s ever experienced. He coughs it out, gasps in another, and another, and things begin to fade back in. The Shah still has their hands on himself, grinding down until he’s done, and then he finally sighs, sliding down to lay beside Rob.</p><p>For a moment, Rob can only stare up at the top of the tent, listening to both of them trying to catch their breaths. His neck throbs in time with his heartbeat. It’s going to be bruised tomorrow, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain it to whoever asks.</p><p>The Shah’s hand lazily comes to rest over Rob’s belly, and Rob flinches. He opens his mouth, and finds he can’t say a thing.</p><p>“Speak, hakim. I can see you would like to. I am giving you permission.”</p><p>It doesn’t seem to matter. He still can’t make a sound. He wonders if he’s in shock, or if he’s been rendered injured by the grip, but he’s not sure he ever wants to speak again, anyway. How can he? How can he ever look anyone in the eye again, carrying this shame?</p><p>The Shah rubs over his stomach, then up to his chest, and Rob flinches again as the touch reaches his neck. It doesn’t choke him again, though. It lightly trails over where he knows marks are forming, perhaps already visible, and then up to his chin, tilting it, forcing Rob to look at him.</p><p>“I like you, Jesse,” he says. “I would like you to know that. And those who I like, I take care of. I would like to take care of you again, Jesse...and I would like you to take care of me. It is only fair, after what I have done for you.”</p><p>Rob’s breathing is shallow and quick, wheezing, and then the Shah drags him forward, forcing his lips over Rob’s, and his lungs seize, stopping completely for a second.</p><p>“You are magnificent,” the Shah says when he pulls away. “Something unlike I have seen before. A gift to me, perhaps, from above.”</p><p>Nothing comes out, no matter how much he wants to cry and plead and yell <em>no, no, no, please, no… </em>He wets his dry lips, and the Shah’s pupils dilate at the sight. He takes a handful of Rob’s hair again, pulling his head back until his mouth unwillingly opens again.</p><p>“With this mouth, and this body, you will worship me. Perhaps, even now, you can—” The Shah sucks in a breath, unmistakably of pain, and leans over a little. This time, Rob doesn’t want to do anything about it at all.</p><p>The Shah recovers, then shoves Rob away, like Rob was the one to cause whatever he felt. “Return, hakim, to the madrasa. I have no further need of you, right now.”</p><p>Rob scrambles to his feet with strength he didn’t know he had yet. He yanks his robes away from the woman who holds them out to him and dresses himself again, never once taking his eyes off of the threat.</p><p>He looks less like one, now, rubbing his side and wincing, reaching for the opium pipe again, but then, Rob had never thought that he would do <em>this.</em> He won’t underestimate the Shah again.</p><p>He feels small. He feels as scared and uncertain as he had as a child, watching his surviving family dragged away and left to die on his own. His hands shake, and he tucks them under his arms, hugs himself tight and backs away, wanting to disappear into the earth.</p><p>“I...am dismissed, my Lord?” he dares to ask at last, his voice as raw as his throat feels, and the Shah looks up at him.</p><p>“For now.”</p><p>Rob can’t stop the tears that start to spill from his eyes. The sight is something that clearly pleases the Shah.</p><p>“You are even more beautiful when you cry, Jesse.”</p><p>He wants to collapse. His knees threaten to give out. But he can’t, if he’s allowed to go he has to <em>go</em>—</p><p>“I will rest, and I will send for you again,” the Shah continues. “And you will come, Jesse, because you have no choice. You will come, and you will service me.”</p><p>“M-my—my Lord…” Rob whispers, a protest and a plea at once, as silent sobs shake him like he’s made of nothing at all.</p><p>“I will see you soon,” the Shah says. “My hakim. And you and I will become even closer friends than we are.”</p><p>He waves his hand. Rob doesn’t register what it means until the guards are suddenly wrapping their hands around his arms, dragging him out into the sun, past everyone who had seen or at the very least <em>heard </em>what happened and back towards the city.</p><p>Towards home, though Rob is certain he will never feel safe there or anywhere else again.</p><hr/><p>He doesn’t speak for the rest of the day. Mirdin tries to get him to, but Rob is too tired, too ashamed. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to do <em>anything. </em>He doesn’t even want to learn, he realizes, and he starts to fear the Shah has taken more from him than he thought.</p><p>He’s curled into himself against the wall, staring as he relives what happened again and again, and he doesn’t hear class end. He doesn’t hear footsteps approaching him, or the call of his name, and is only startled back to the present when fingers touch his neck. He flinches and gasps, reaching up to slap them away, and then looks wide-eyed up at—</p><p>“<em>Master,</em>” he whispers, and lowers his head. “I’m so sorry. I…”</p><p>Ibn Sina doesn’t look upset. Rob almost wishes he was, because he’s looking down at Rob with <em>concern </em>instead, and Rob realizes he’d been touching the discoloration, and—and—</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>Rob starts to cry. He leans forward, resting his head against the man’s knee, and this time he doesn’t bother trying to be quiet.</p><p>He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think he ever will be able to. And they’ll know soon enough, when the Shah’s men come for him. Maybe they already do, and maybe those men are already on their way.</p><p>He wonders if Ibn Sina could help him. Speak to the Shah, tell him <em>anything.</em> It can’t hurt to try, as much as it’s going to hurt to admit the truth, as much as he thinks it will end up being useless.</p><p>But he can hope, can’t he? He’s had nothing else to hold onto his entire life.</p><p>A hand settles into his hair, so much different than the Shah’s, and pets with the intent to comfort instead of frighten. Rob doesn’t think he’s ever <em>felt </em>that before, and he doesn’t want it to stop.</p><p>And mercifully, it doesn’t. As long as he kneels there, sobbing, it strokes through his curls, steadying him, and for a few moments, just a few, he can believe that things might turn out okay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I might write more...but otherwise view this as everything goes the way the movie did from here on and everything's "fine". Also Ibn Sina doesn't die, because I said so. Hmmph. Thanks for reading! (:</p></blockquote></div></div>
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